


Pierced

by TakeninStride



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Implied Bagginshield, It'll live up to it's M rating eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:11:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2855339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TakeninStride/pseuds/TakeninStride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kili is surprised he survived the battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Remembrances Part 1

**K** íli sat idly by the large table pushing the food around on his plate with little interest, listening to Thorin continue his winded speech about the battle. It was a moving speech, truly, but Kíli had heard it several times throughout the night already. The stone between their chambers had suffered damages during Smaug’s occupation of the mountain and as such the young prince had listened to his King fret all night about the next day’s ceremony.

Today’s ceremony. 

It was one he was sure would become an annual celebration—after all, the dwarves had been reunited in their ancestral home once again after decades of living as vagabonds: a lifestyle unsuited to the sturdy race. Elves, he imagined, would be fair nomads indeed, what with their knowledge of plant life and their swiftness. He had to restrain himself from sighing. Elves were never far from his mind these days. He had been disappointed when the elves turned back to their dark woods after the battle. _Actually_ he had been elated to know that Thranduil and his son would be leaving without pressing his kin for their "due payments" but he was sure that Thorin would be hearing from the Sindarin king sooner rather than later in regard to the matter.

His disappointment, he acknowledged for the umpteenth time, was focused on _her_. As Thorin continued to preach about the value of lives lost; a part of the speech that, upon first hearing, had brought tears of bittersweet pride to Kíli’s eyes and was proving to do the same to the others, his mind began to wander back to battle.

 

His vision was only black and white as he slipped in and out of consciousness. He had a foggy idea of who he was and where he was but moments and memories alluded him when he grasped for them. A fire seemed to burn in his gut, a pain more overwhelming than anything he had ever felt before. _What is this ache?_ he tried reaching for the pain in his middle but his arm refused to obey his command. Then the darkness of sleep… _or was it death?_ he would later reflect, found him once again.

His next memory was that of feeling the pain again in his chest. He still could not see beyond the blinding white but now he heard something strangled, words he could not place. He felt warmth on his face and he could feel the frigid cold creeping into the tips of his fingers. And then nothing, once more.

He could feel himself in darkness for a long while after that. When Kíli was very young one restless night of counting sheep found him suddenly in a pasture surrounded by the wooly beasts. Above him towered a great mountain under a blanket of heavy clouds. He had been far too young to remember the slopes of the Lonely Mountain when his people were ejected from it but he knew that the mass of stone before him was meant to be it. A crack of lightning in the distance startled the livestock around him and they all bolted away from him as he tried to calm them. The herd stormed nervously toward the peak with Kíli in tow. The closer the sheep got to the crest the further they seemed from him. When he woke that night a feeling of dread had consumed the young dwarf. He recalled that sense of dread now, in this darkness of his mind. It felt like he was once again chasing the sheep up the perilous mountain, and yet he felt as if he was the one being pursued.

Suddenly there was warmth on his face once more and the burning returned. His mind tried shrinking from the pain but he clung to the light that slowly filtered back into his vision. This time he could see a streak of bronze through his vision. There were more words exchanged, this time the higher lilt from before was accompanied with something more familiar, deeper and brusque. He tried to call out to no avail. When his vision began to fade once more he loudly cursed his mental fortitude. But the darkness that consumed him this time was comfortable, not threatening as it had been before. He felt his pains subsiding and then he found himself truly unconscious once more.

When he came to his vision was exceptionally clearer despite the headache that hid just behind his eyes. Even the dim glow of firelight on stone caused him pain. _Pain_ , he had remembered then, reaching for his chest once more. The movement of his arm sent tendrils of the lightning to his brain and the pressure of his fingers on the bandages was too much to bear so he dropped his arm back to his side, not interested in being consumed by the defense mechanisms of his mind again. He turned his gaze to the side, finding his brother on a bed across the room and his heart lurched-- the events of the battle coming to him slowly. He immediately made to check Fíli’s vitals when a hand pressed his shoulder back to the bed.

“He’s in a critical condition, but he lives.”

He looked up to find Tauriel above him, her long fiery hair almost brushing against his face. She straightened and pulled a chair up to his bedside murmuring about checking his wound again as she did so. “W-what happened?” His voice was rough and scratchy. 

She responded by pressing a water horn to his lips. He felt the tips of his ears heat with embarrassment at his useless state but nodded gratefully as he swallowed down large gulps. Once he was finished she even considerately swiped the remaining moisture from his mouth causing his blush to sink into his cheeks. He hoped the lighting was too dim for her to notice and tried to clear his throat but the sound came out sounding nervous and strained. She began to unravel the bandage as she spoke. “To Fíli?”

He nodded again. “Stabbed through but none of his major organs were hit. We were able to cauterize his wound in time. He sustained more damage from the drop, a broken arm and a concussion that has left him comatose,” at this last word her eyes met his apologetically. He took a moment to consider his brother.

“He’ll pull through sooner or later,” Kíli decided, sure. He was touched by her concern for his brother, but did not want to see her troubled. “We dwarves are fighters in battle and otherwise.” He added a wink there for good measure, unable to resist. The worry present on her face was replaced with a knowing smirk. “Were there any other severe casualties?” he asked tenderly, not wanting to bring her down again but needing to know all the same.

Tauriel’s eyes dropped to the floor then, darkened with loss. “Many, I’m afraid. The mountain’s shadow is still littered with bodies. We've all been working to sort out our dead. The company you traveled with through Mirkwood have all survived,” her eyes quickly glance to his prone brother, “they’ve all come by to offer prayers for your health. There were many deaths suffered by the dwarves of the Iron Hills, the men and my own kind.”

A moment of silence hung between them before Kíli spoke once more. “And how did I come to be in such a state?”

A sadness Kíli could not understand found itself deep in Tauriel’s voice despite her attempts to mask it. “You were almost killed by an orc. The blow crushed your sternum and pierced a lung. There was also damage sustained to your trachea. As well as your heart.” She looked away then and Kíli could not figure out what to make the sorrow that seemed to grip her. He needed to see her smile then and reached out to take her hand. She was surprised by the touch and he caught sight of the tears in her eyes as she turned back, blinking them away quickly.

“Oi, you make it seem like I died there Tauriel. I’m here though. In rough shape, sure,” he said with a nudging chuckle and continued softly, “but I’m still here.”

The corners of her mouth quirked then and she rested her hand briefly on top of the hand that held hers. “That you are, Master Dwarf.” She stood then taking her hands back from him gently, moving to a table near the foot of his bed to retrieve some supplies. When she returned she had another roll of bandages and some kind of plant laced between her long fingers. She chewed a leaf of the stuff as she slipped the soiled bandages to the floor by her feet and poured some water into her palm. Taking the mush of green from her mouth, she rolled it around in the water and he watched as it became thick and pasty in her hands. She then took to dabbing the mixture around the edges of his wounds. While the pain was certainly more bearable than it had been in his fight for consciousness he was glad for the relief the medicine brought. When she finished she placed the remaining leaves on top of his wound and took to dressing it once more.

“You should continue to rest. Remain in bed for the next week,” she said seriously as she cleaned up, “but you should stray from any kind of bodily stress for the next moon or so to be sure your wounds do not reopen.”

He was dismayed to hear her diagnosis—sitting around was not something he was accustomed to nor enjoyed doing. He was more concerned about the way in which she delivered the diagnosis however. “You’re leaving...”

 

She had set out later that day to accompany the rest of the elven company back to Mirkwood.

“Kíli?” He was brought back into reality, turning to the owner of the hushed whisper beside him. Fíli looked at him with fatigued concern; he had only just come to from his coma in the last week and was still ragged. “Are you alright?”

The younger prince nodded, trying to cover up his mental absence, “Yeah, why, what do you mean?” His response sounded suspicious even to his ears. His brother quirked an eyebrow at him and gestured to his plate. The dark haired dwarf looked down to find his fork driven deeply into the cold and hardly touched piece of mutton. He sighed then, quickly glancing to Thorin who had not seemed to falter in his speech-giving before turning back to his brother. “Sorry Fíli, my injury is just acting up a little is all,” he lied, raising a hand as concern consumed his brother’s face, “I just sat up too fast earlier. I’ll be okay, really.” The blond dwarf continued to consider his brother for a moment. Kíli offered a sheepish smile and finally the older prince was persuaded.

They turned back to Thorin then just as their King began to issue his thankfulness to Dáin and his soldiers for their efforts on the battlefield as well as their voluntary decision to bring the other scattered clans back to Erebor.

While Kíli felt safe within the walls of his ancestral home he longed to be back on the road. He did not believe that dwarves were nomadic but after his prolonged stay within the Lonely Mountain’s halls he was itching to feel the road beneath his feet and fresh air in his lungs. He had spoken with Thorin of accompanying Ironfoot when he heard of Dáin's plan. Because Tauriel had briefed the King Under the Mountain of his nephew's state, Kíli's request to leave was hastily denied because of his injury. And so, for the time being at least, he was confined within the stone, left crave the sun and the one whose hair shined like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, hope you're having a good time! Didn't have a beta for this and I'm not well versed in Tolkien lore whatsoever, so feel free to let me know if I messed something up!
> 
> This next chapter will follow Tauriel's perspective, but beyond it I don't have anything planned for this. If you have any plot points you want to see addressed or some tropes you'd like to see let me know and I'll do what I can to write them in :) Happy Holidays everyone!


	2. Remembrances Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel's choice.

Between the King’s ability to hold a grudge and her own longings she had not expected to pass through the gates of Mirkwood so soon after leaving it. She only had brief periods of time after her departure to consider what she would do once all of this dwarves and dragons drama blew over. She closed her eyes as she led the vanguard toward the barracks, recalling the whirlwind of events. 

The whole of her life before the dwarrow company stumbled into their cells played back to her slowly. Day to day dealings with spiders and training… it seemed as though it was one very long moment as it flashed before her mind’s eye. But after, she felt she hardly had time to breathe. Perhaps it was the perspective of time that was altering her perceptions; the recent events taking immediate precedence and drowning the rest. After a life lived in routine and custom the time spent outside of those confines seemed not long enough to her.

The elven troops set to disarming themselves. They hung their daggers, swords and bows but too exhausted were they to properly stack their quivers. Tauriel knew much of exhaustion. She would come back later to organize the weapon racks, she decided. Now was not a time for military discipline but rather a time to focus on grieving and making attempts at restoration. She was approached by the remains of her old guard and invited to the dining halls but she politely declined. She was not a solitary creature by any means (although she could count the trees as company just as well as her kin) but craved to be alone.

When she slipped into her room she fell gracelessly onto her bed. Thoughts raced and refused to be silenced. Soon enough, though, she found herself in a fitful sleep.

 

She had been taught at a young age about dwarves and why they were a blight upon the world. To hate them seemed like a worthless endeavor to Tauriel. Not when orcs and goblins lurked in the shadows, at least. She had heard many stories about the history between the two races, had learned of their conflicts and their distasteful traits. She had heard her elders spit the words ‘fire-blooded thieves’ whenever the small men would come up in conversation in the halls.

Later she would come to find that the insult was only half right. When she pressed _athelas_ to the young dwarf’s injury that day in Laketown she could feel the warmth of his skin seep into her hands. She thought that it had just been the fever-heat of the infection but the brushing of their fingers would confirm to her that the mountain-folk indeed had veins of flame.

Later than that, though, she would feel that heat slipping from him in the cold chill of the north. She gripped his hands then, held his cheeks in her hands, and embraced his body close to hers. She did everything she could to keep his warmth within him despite it leaking away from the gaping wound in his chest.

She had heard the footfalls of many coming toward her and could not even think to draw a weapon, expecting a small surge of goblins. Luckily, she had no need. One of the young dwarves from Kíli’s company ran out onto the ledge, eyes widening. He shouted back to the others, his voice strained with sadness. Several others rounded the corner and fell to their knees at the sight of their fallen prince. They were all too consumed with their grief to speak.

One, with hair as white as the snow that fell around them, was the first to break his vigil. “We were fortunate to lose only one this day,” his voice betraying his rallying words, “he’ll find comfortable respite in the catacombs of the king. He lives beyond with Mahal now.” He shuffled away then, tears falling unabashedly from his eyes. The dwarves rose to follow him wiping away their own tears. Tauriel recognized one—he had been wearing an odd hat when she had first met him. It was crumpled up in his large hands now. He turned back and was now crouched beside her. Tentatively, he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder offering her his quiet condolences. She was alone again and for the first time in centuries she felt tears slip down her face.

That was when she heard slow, soft steps approach her this time; Legolas. “They want to bury him… If this is love I do not want it. Take it from me,” she wept, looking up to find that it was Thranduil that stood before her.

She was surprised, but it made no difference. “ _Please?_ ”

She found sympathy in his features then, an expression she had thought to be extinct in the king. “Why does it hurt so much?” she sobbed into the silence.

He took a step forward, as if to comfort her. “Because it was real,” he whispered in response. She looked to his grey eyes then and recalled that Thranduil knew much of love and loss. 

Her moments with Kíli had been so rushed that she had not had the time to think on her feelings. Now though, seconds seemed to stretch themselves. The words of her king echoed through her mind several times before they took purchase, sinking deeply into the shattered remains of her heart. Her love for the dwarf _had_ been real, she realized far too late. _And he’ll never know it now_. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cold lips, tears falling onto his dirty cheeks.

When she stood she looked to the Sindar. “What am I to do now?”

His gaze left her then to examine the dwarf and then moved beyond, out to the mountains on the glowing horizon. “When mine died... I was lost within myself,” he began, struggling to find the words, “I pursued every possible means of returning her to my side. I tried magic, first. And then prayer. Nothing I found was of any help to me. You,” he stopped then, considering her once more and recalling a time long ago, “You might have one option.”

 

There was a pain in her heart that jolted Tauriel from her slumber. The memory of that day had cycled through her dreams every night, each time ending the same way. She slipped out of her room, surprised to find daylight filtering through the canopy of leaves overhead leaving the ivory floors dappled with shade. She had just settled in to break her fast within one of Mirkwood’s dining halls when she was summoned to the king. The unsettling feeling in her gut dissipated from hunger to nerves immediately and she made her way into the great tree that housed the palace.

When the guards led her into the throne room Thranduil rose from his seat, issuing them away with a brush of his hand. She bent her knee in the appropriate bow and was not told to stand until the large wooden doors of the room had closed.  
He regarded her with a deep breath before speaking. “You have been a valuable asset to my kingdom Tauriel. I shall allow you to stay and grieve your fallen soldiers and comrades but after the ceremonies you must take your leave of Mirkwood.” She made to argue but he cut her off before the words could fall from her mouth. “You made your choice Tauriel. This is the consequence.”

His tone was not harsh as she had expected it to be. Rather it was low and she found understanding in his face. “You do not belong here anymore,” he added. She knew it to be true. The words still stung. She had always sought freedom and had found herself confined within these borders. Even still, she loved her home and was heartbroken to be banished from it after all, although it was not unexpected.

“Yes, my King. Thank you for your generosity.” She bowed again and quickly left.

She stayed the next week as the dead were mourned and set out soon after the last vigil. She had said her goodbyes to her living friends and left her home with only the necessities. Outside the walls of the kingdom she turned north and breathed in deeply. The darkness in Mirkwood did not persist so close to the palace, the air clear of any foul taint. She found hope and anxiety at war within her and a cold raking feeling descended down her spine. She prayed quickly that it was not a sign of illness creeping into her bones as she began her journey back, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again friends! Here is chapter two :) 
> 
> I've gotten a couple sweet suggestions about where to go with this and I'm still accepting if there's something you're looking to see! I've got a good idea for their relationship progression so I'm mostly looking for any fun plot tropes to throw down with. Let me know whatchya think. Thanks for reading and I hope you all have happy holidays!


	3. Fandâna Mardur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel returns to the Lonely Mountain

Just yesterday the halls had been full of clamor, the sounds of preparation ricocheting around the massive stone foyer. Dáin was to take half of his men west to the Blue Mountains while the rest would jump around to some of the smaller encampments across middle-earth. Roäc had agreed to fly with his ravens to the Iron Hills just due east from the Lonely Mountain to summon those dwarves who had stayed behind when their leader marched. The hobbit rode west as well, only to retrieve some personal mementos from his old home in the Shire and Gandalf had slipped away one evening, as the wizard was wont to do.

As such the company of 13 dwarves were left in their mountain with only the sick or wounded Iron Hills dwarves as bed-ridden company. Thorin had mentioned to Kíli in confidence that he worried for Bilbo’s journey. While the ex-burglar would be accompanied by half of Ironfoot’s army through the dangers of Mirkwood and across the Misty Mountains to his home he would be making the journey back alone.

“Have confidence in the lad,” Kíli laughed, trying to lighten the king’s foul countenance. “How many times did that one save our hides, Thorin? He knocked the biggest and baddest of orcs out with a stone from yards away, that one! He’ll be able to handle his own, I’m sure of it.”

Relief came to the king but he still mumbled and grumbled about the Halfling catching his early death of frost bite or being ambushed by bandits or eaten by spiders...

Fíli’s recovery had been coming along nicely— his fatigue was waning and his wound had healed up quicker than Kíli’s. Balin would raise an eyebrow whenever he checked the status of the prince boys, telling Kíli that he needed to rest _like his brother_ , he’d emphasize, or the wound would never heal right. Kíli would shrug off the chastisements, issuing a dozen of possible excuses in response. The white haired dwarf would only shake his head.

The others continued to clean and make attempts to restore their ancestral home. It would be many years, decades probably, before Erebor would see some of the grandeur it held before a dragon nestled within its stone belly. Unable to assist his able-bodied brethren in lifting stones and heavy crates Kíli had spent the day shadowing Balin in cleaning the library and returning the sea of books on the floor to their shelves once more. He’d first had to sit and listen to the rules of a complex ordering system Balin wanted to put in place and now his mind was reeling from all of the numbers and equations circling in his brain. With a grimace the young dwarf simply shoved the next book he picked up onto a random shelf, making sure Balin’s back was turned as he did so.  
As if on cue, Ori scampered into the library and looked between the two, breathless. “We’ve got a visitor!” The youngest dwarf departed in the same haste he’d arrived with. The two shared a confused and concerned glance before picking their way through the mess of tomes and out of the library.

A good number of the company had been summoned to the foyer already. Kíli could hear them laughing and shouting in welcome before he even rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks when he saw her. She turned and the smile present on her face grew when she saw him. “Hey!” he called, jogging lightly to the group, wanting nothing more than to lift her and spin her around in his joy. It wasn’t the prospect of hurting himself in the effort that stopped him from doing so but the presence of the others. He understood his kin’s disdain for the elves— he had felt a burning annoyance deep in his gut whenever the elf prince dared to send snark his way, or when the key holder of the Mirkwood dungeons would taunt or insult them. Tauriel was different and he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

She made to greet him when Thorin’s voice boomed through the halls, drawing everyone’s attention to the dwarrow king. “Tauriel, welcome back to the halls of Erebor!” he called from the grand entrance, Ori at his elbow. When Thorin reached her he extended his hand and they shook—a custom the king had since learned from the human, Bard. “What brings you back to us so soon?” he asked.

Her eyes fell to the floor then and she stifled a cough with the back of her hand before responding quietly, “I… had to leave Mirkwood.” Her voice was low and hoarse. Stripped, Kíli assumed, by the colder air of the open moors around the mountain. “I was banished actually. For disobeying Thranduil’s order to stay within the borders to dispatch the orcs that attacked us on the day of your escape.”

The dwarf king scoffed, “A king that punishes his soldiers for going beyond the line of duty to save her kingdom…”

“I made a choice to leave Mirkwood that day,” she explained before Thorin could finish, “and there were other considerations that also accounted for Thranduil’s decision. I was well aware of the consequences.”

He nodded once, “well, then if your home won’t have you then you may take refuge here in Erebor for as long as you like.”

Surprise, confusion, and excitement seemed to slap Kíli in a sequence at his king’s words. He knew his uncle had defeated his dragon sickness and had found his generosity once again but he never would have imagined Thorin to be so unwaveringly friendly. _To an elf, no less!_ Kíli thought, remembering the particular saltiness Thorin had toward the tall race. He quickly looked to the responses of the others to find them all sagely nodding—even Dwalin had a smirk! It was a development that left Kíli awestruck. Awestruck, and positively delighted and sure he’d missed something big.

She was the only other one who seemed completely taken aback by the offer and she quickly bowed when she regained her sensibilities. “Thank you, King Thorin. I’d be happy to be of service to you and your people while I am in your stead.”  
There was a good deal of small talk exchanged before the dwarves began to excuse themselves back to their work. Most would clap her on the shoulder as they left—rising to the balls of their feet to do so, or nod in regard. Fíli bowed his head to her before he parted and said, “Welcome back, _nan’ith._ ”

She turned to Thorin, “is there anything you’d have me do to help?”

“You’ve journeyed a good deal this day. Take a rest and then we can see to setting you to work,” he said, turning back to his own work in restoring the treasuries and taking inventory of the wealth beneath their feet.

Tauriel got caught in a string of painful sounding coughs then, trying to hide it behind her hand and her curtain of hair. Kíli and Balin, the last of the crowd, considered her with concern. “Are…you okay?” the younger dwarf asked tentatively.

“Y-yes, it’s just dusty in here,” she said, face slightly flushed from the fit.

“I could use some fresh air as well,” Kíli admitted. He’d been stuck in the mountain since the battle, and was itching to get out. He looked to Balin for permission in taking a break from his work with the books. The elder nodded. “Wonderful! I imagine you’ll need a room too. Let’s see if we can find one close to the gates. That way you can just step out when you need to.”

She nodded, clearing her throat, “That would be perfect.”

He turned, gesturing for her to follow. He led her toward the one he had in mind; he’d had plenty of time to explore the mountain in his recovery. It wasn’t a large room by any means but at least the ceilings here were high and it was mostly intact. It was, however, much dustier than the rooms that had been occupied already. “Hmm,” he scratched at the stubble of his beard. “Well, we can find you somewhere cleaner for tonight and get to cleaning this up in the morning.”

There was a door at the other side of the room that was his main reason for considering it. He pushed it open to reveal a decent hallway that led to the balconies by the gate. “It’s a room for the head watchman, usually,” he explained, brushing some cobwebs away from a torch sconce as they passed. The hall opened without interruption to the balcony. “But I think you’ll be fine, if you like it that is.” The air was cold outside and Kíli was surprised to find the sky consumed in the hues of dusk. There were stone benches set up along this post and what looked to be a pile of decayed wood in a heap between two of them. The remains of a table, probably.

“It’s a lovely view,” she said, taking a seat on one of the benches. The icy mountains to their left were surrounded by the pinks and oranges of the northern sunset. To their right, disappearing behind a steep cliff face, they could see the soft illumination of firelight rising above Dale as the human city turned in for the evening. Out in the rocky expanse, where the majority of the battle had taken place, there was no sign of carnage save for a large patch of ashen ground. He assumed it to be the remains of the orcs that had perished on the field; burned to prevent their evil taint from attracting other unsatisfactory creatures.

What seemed to catch her attention though was the blanket of bright stars that blinked above them in the encroaching darkness. He breathed deeply and stretched, immediately energized by the brisk temperature and light breeze that stirred his heavy hair.   
“Better?” he asked, turning to the elf girl.

“I’ll miss the comforts of trees and plants, for sure,” she said, her eyes sweeping across the barren moor before finding themselves in the heavens again, “but being so close to the stars like this is just breathtaking.”  
He was unable to help himself from chuckling deeply. “I meant the air; your cough. But I’m glad you like it here. You might not miss your trees for very long, either,” he said, taking a seat beside her. “Bilbo—the hobbit that was with us, he’s decided to live here as well. His plans are to start a garden outside the gates.”

Tauriel gave him a confused stare, thinking on it for a long moment. “Is it possible to grow things out here?”

He gave her an exaggerated shrug, “The hobbit is convinced that he’ll be able to. He’s travelling back to his hills right now to retrieve some things he claimed would be necessary for the endeavor. I have no doubt that little man has some kind of magical instrument to turn stone into dirt,” he joked dumbly, “or something like that.”

She shares a laugh, “well, I look forward to seeing him try. I hope he finds success. Having gardens here will help you keep your independence—if that’s what Thorin is seeking, anyway.”  
“What do you mean?”

“Well,” she said, shifting on the hard stone seat, “once upon a time our people got along quite nicely. There was a good amount of trade between Mirkwood and Erebor. Your stones for our wood, your gems for our produce. Healing herbs are fickle plants, you know. They grow where they please. They don’t grow here on the Lonely Mountain. As such, it was one of our finest resources-- I remember having to guard several of our caravans from stray bandits. Since then most of our territory was lost to Dol Guldur and its spiders. Even if Thranduil had enough to spare, the relations between our people are still in shambles. It would be good to be able to cultivate plant-life here if our kings cannot come to agreement.”

“Ah, I sometimes forget that plants have purpose,” he joked again. “Perhaps now that Thorin is rid of his greed he’ll be willing to part with the treasure Thranduil wants.”

“Perhaps.”

He tapped the cold stone with his fingers enjoying the sound of her voice, rasped though it was, too much to let silence overtake them completely. “So, if you don’t mind my asking… how old are you exactly?”

She smiled at him wryly as a mischievousness he recognized found its way into her eyes. “Are you sure you want to know?” 

He grinned back, arcing an eyebrow for good measure. “Just over six-hundred.” The number was an astonishing one to Kíli, who had not yet even seen his second century of life. “I’m still quite young,” she offered and he clung to that comfort.

He intended to ask about her more when she fell into another coughing fit. She turned away, trying to stifle it to no avail. “A-are you sure you’re alright? Do you need anything?”

She made the sound one make before they vomit, her body lurching as the coughing persisted. “Nope you’re definitely not okay,” he realized and moved to her side, unable to sit by idly as worry sank into him. She retched then and he scrambled to keep her hair from her face. He rubbed her back as his Ma had done for him when he was little. When she finished retching she pressed her hand to her mouth and he found terror in her eyes.

“Is it done?” he asked carefully.

She swallowed hard as he gently wiped cold sweat from her brow with this sleeve. “I… am not su—,” she winced and swayed slightly and he had to steady her from falling forward.

Trying to avoid from panicking he slung one of her arms over his shoulder. “Okay, let’s get you back inside.” Whatever sickness had consumed her was hitting her hard now, and she struggled to stand, their difference in their height making it hard for him to support her. He huffed at the situation and hooked her knees over his arm, lifting her with relative ease. The pressure against his chest was uncomfortable but not unbearable. He made his way through the halls they’d taken before and called for Balin, sure the wise dwarf would know how to help.

They got her reclined and had her sip on water before she lost consciousness.

“What’s wrong with her?” Kíli asked for the seventh time since setting her down. “I didn’t think elves could _get_ sick.”

“They can’t,” the older dwarf said quietly, regarding Kíli oddly.

The younger dwarf frowned at him, “then…how?”

Balin sighed quickly then. He looked at Kíli with apprehension before shaking his head as he turned to leave the room. “You’ll have to ask her when she wakes.”

 

Tauriel blinked her eyes open, surprised to find herself inside. Hadn’t she just been chatting with Kíli on the balcony? Her skin felt cold still, especially around the peripheries of her face. She made to wipe the clammy dampness gathered at her temple but her hand found resistance. She looked down to find the dark haired dwarf rested there. He was slumped forward in his chair, head rested on the bed. She noted that the dwarrow have large hands; her hand was almost completely eclipsed in his. She absently brushed his finger with her thumb and he stirred, pushing his thick hair back out his face where it had fallen in his sleep.

“What happened?” she asked. Her throat felt wrong, as if she’d tried to swallow a handful of stones.

“You got sick and fainted. Balin thinks it’s just a chill because you don’t have a fever. He couldn’t be sure though, considering elves can’t catch disease and such,” he shrugged lightly, looking away from her, obviously bothered.

“I figured it was an effect of being with child.”

She sat up quickly-- too quickly, she realized as her stomach lurched. It was a feeling so new and unfamiliar she had thought it to be death the first time it had happened. Luckily it wasn’t followed by the acrid sting of bile in her mouth as it had been before. “I’m not with child,” she said, probably too loudly. She felt completely drained of energy. “If these are the symptoms of a sickness, then that is what ails me.”

He gave her a strange look, not understanding. She knew she had to explain but she had been struggling with the words and how she’d tell him since the day it had happened. 

“I cut my ties with Arda-- I’m mortal now.” He blinked; once, twice. His mouth opened as if to comment but words didn’t pass. She sighed, knowing she needed to continue. “You died that die, Kíli. Thranduil… he knew of a way that might bring you back. He told me that an elf might be able to sacrifice their immortal lives for that of a perished mortal. The story he’d heard turned out to be true. I prayed to the Valar that they might give you the rest of your years back in exchange for the eternity I might have lived.” Her voice was hardly a whisper at the end.

Many things passed through the dwarf’s face, a spectrum of emotions glancing through his eyes and trying to take purchase in his mind. His hand had pressed to his chest and tears threatened to fall from his brown eyes. “Why?” he ask, his voice uneven, “How could you do that… for me?” The weight of her sacrifice was taking root in his mind.

“Because,” she pressed the rune stone he’d given her at Laketown into his palm, “You needed to keep your promise.”

He cried quietly, suddenly overwhelmed by it all, holding her hand between his to cradle the stone. They sat that way for a long moment. She watched as guilt knitted in his brows and she pushed the bangs away from his forehead as if to shoo it away. “You shouldn’t mourn the gift of mortality, nor should you take any responsibility for my decision.” She brushed his cheek lightly and he couldn’t help but smile at the gesture. He wiped his tears away, determined to honor her words and took a deep breath to recompose himself.

“I don’t even know how to begin thanking you for saving me all of the time. I don’t even want to think about what Fíli would do if I had… Or Ma.” He turned the stone over a couple of times before putting it back into her hand and closing her fingers around it, 

“She’ll be coming here when she hears of Smaug’s demise and I’d rather have you hold onto this. She’d warm to you much quicker if she knew about everything you’ve done for me.” She nodded and returned the stone into a pouch at her belt.

“On the topic of quickly warming…” he looked at her suspiciously, “did the others know?”

“They did. I asked them not to tell you, so I hope their silence does not offend.”

“Ahh, that makes a good deal of sense,” he said, leaning back into his chair. “I don’t think I’m in a position to be offended considering the close alternative. I’m glad I was able to hear it straight from you though. If one of the others had let it slip while you were away I probably would keeled over right then.” 

He claimed her hand once more to press a chaste kiss to the back of it. “Thank you, truly. If there is anything I could do, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask it of me.”

Tauriel smiled at his sentiments as a thought struck her. “There is one thing…”

The dwarf’s eyebrows rose quickly. “Anything.”

“What was that word Fíli called me when I arrived? Nalith, or Nanid maybe?” She couldn’t quite recall the Khuzdul word she had heard.

“ _Nan’ith,_ ” he corrected with a warm chuckle, “it means new-sister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks always for reading :)
> 
> I don't have any concrete ideas for Chapter 4 so if you have any suggestions feel free to throw them my way! I could use a nice challenge or two~  
> If you're just along for the ride I'd love to hear your feedback, like it? Hate it? Your words sustain me either way.
> 
> Fandâna Mardur is Khuzdul* for "Death within the Elf Girl" (*as in a very basic, grammatically incorrect grasp of Khuzdul)


	4. Savory and Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel begins to sort herself out.

The cold she had come down with continued to linger within her system for the better part of the next week. Thankfully the vomiting had only happened just the once. She never wanted to experience that body-racking trauma for the rest of her now-numbered days. In her bed rest the dwarves cleaned the room Kíli had shown her. When she had seen the drab and dusty room first there had only been a weathered wardrobe and an old, broken bed pushed into a dark corner. She was comfortable without having extremities in her room; she spent little time in the one she’d had in Mirkwood and did not intend to spend much in this one either. What had touched her the most about the cleaning of the room was the effort they had gone to make her feel more at home in the mountain. They hung green swatches of cloth along the wall where it met the ceiling, tumbling down in the corners. They had replaced the bed entirely and, while it looked a little short for the long-legged elf, they had fitted it with fresh linens with heavy brown blankets as soft as the furs of rabbits.

She drew the three dwarves responsible to her hip in a small group hug, offering her words of thanks. Ori and Bofur found themselves flustered by the action and Nori couldn’t contain his laughter at the beet red flush that took the youngest dwarf’s features.

The ravens had returned with the rest of the Iron Hills dwarves in tow, along with their herds of wooly sheep and long-horned ibex. Most of them were boys too young to march but old enough to tend the livestock in the absence of their fathers but there was also a good dozen females in the returning party. Thorin had greeted the leading she-dwarf with a deep bow, the kind Tauriel had only seen bestowed before him. She remembered then that the dwarrow basically worshiped their women—as they were few and far between and precious to the race beyond their gems and mead.

“Lady Ironfoot,” Thorin greeted after straightening, “it is good to have you back in the halls of Erebor.”

The shorter woman barked a laugh, her voice higher than Tauriel would have expected for her rough look. “It’s good to be back, Thorin. I was beginning to think I’d never step foot here again. Thank you for reclaiming our home.” It was her turn to bow to him, the rest of her party taking a knee as well. “Now I hate to cut to the chase but what of that husband of mine? Where is he?”

“He rode west to see our people back from Ered Luin,” Thorin explained. “They should be returning come the winter solstice.”

The woman pulled on the beard at her chin, displeased. “Well two more moons away won’t be too bad.”

“We’ve got plenty to do for you to pass the time,” Thorin said with a smile.

“Aye, that is certainly true,” she responded, taking in the lackluster dimness of the foyer they all stood in. “Well ladies go and drop off your things and let’s get to it,” she called and they began to bustle around behind her disappearing into depths of the mountain.

The Lady set eyes on Tauriel almost immediately after Thorin turned away and she stopped in her tracks, giving the elven girl a glare. “What is this?” she called to no one in particular.

Tauriel blanched at the look she received. Luckily Fíli intervened what she believed was going to be a direct confrontation with the highborn dwarf woman. “This is Tauriel, an elf of Mirkwood. She was a tremendous help to our people in the fight. She has taken residence here,” he said, his voice dropping while giving the Lady a stern look, “and it is Thorin’s wish that any past discretion with the elves is not directed towards her.”

The other woman considered her suspiciously before nodding carefully. “I’ll take Thorin’s word into consideration.” She left without acknowledging Tauriel further, something the elf was thankful for. She knew the battle for acceptance among the dwarves would be hard-won and fought on multiple occasions as they would continue to return to their old mountain home. These were struggles she did not look forward to—the ramifications of failing weighing heavily upon her mind.

There was a feast later that night for the returned hill clan. There had been a fresh slaughter earlier; a couple of the sheep had been injured in the journey through the hills. As a result, steaming mutton was served as the main course that night, accompanied by breads and cheeses and a mysterious stew. Tauriel had hoped that the wave of dwarves would have brought some food of the green and leafy variety. _A silly dream,_ she thought while stirring at the soup. She found there to be chunks of potato in the murky broth and what looked to be small shreds of lamb.

Her people had hunted before Dol Guldur became a pressing threat to her kingdom. She had never been particularly fond of the taste. When the darkness had moved into the forest the meat of its creatures had become tainted— too foul to be consumed. She’d since lost her appetite for the meats Mirkwood had to offer. Her stomach turned at the thought of the stuff as she picked at the starchy potatoes.

Her diet had consisted primarily of cheese and bread over the last week and her body had begun to crave the taste of something different, something with more nutritional values. The dwarves around her commended Bombur and the others who had prepared the meal as they sank their teeth into the mutton. It certainly didn’t have the washed out grey color to it—it looked quite succulent in fact. She considered one of the pieces on the tray in the middle of the table. It was a pretty orange color on the outside and she noticed how the thick sauce caught itself in the beards of the dwarves around her. And so she reached for a piece of the cooked lamb. The dwarves around her, mostly those of Thorin’s company silenced as they watched and she felt suddenly too aware of her movements. She met eyes with several of them, finding surprise and anticipation within the small men.

The rest of the dwarves at the table hushed save for a couple of confused whispers near the end. She could feel her ears redden. “W-what?” she looked to Kíli, hoping he might answer. He only looked to the meat on her plate and back, eyebrows raised expectantly. She sighed. Giving a final look around, she bit into the meat. The room was completely silent as she chewed, waiting for her reaction with baited breath. _Is it such a big deal?_ she asked herself, almost too preoccupied with the dwarves around her than the flavors in her mouth.

“It’s good,” she announced after swallowing and a roar of applause overtook the dining hall. The large red-headed dwarf got several claps on the shoulder from those who sat around him. The others returned to their conversations and mead, and she found that she was absolutely _famished_. She ended up consuming two other pieces of the lamb before she felt sated, the dwarves nearby giving a small round of cheers each time she reached for another piece. 

Her elven energy had been taken with her mortality, she realized when she finished. The Valar had mentioned she would experience changes, but had not been specific. She’d be relying on the proteins of meat much more than she’d had need in the past. She could already feel energy coursing through her once again, filling the reserves she’d lost in her sickness.

She woke up the next morning to find the remains of her sniffles and the soreness in her throat to be gone. She made her way to the rooms of the few who still held injury. The only ones who had yet to be released from her care were those with severe bone breaks. As is it would take weeks for them to heal up well. If she had some marrowmend to brew their recovery would go quicker, but alas any store of the root had since withered in the sixty-or-so years since the mountain’s previous dwarrow occupation.

She turned the corner and promptly ran into someone passing the other way in her contemplations. “Ah, sorry,” she exclaimed. It was not the first time she’d nearly ran over a dwarf in the last week. 

She was more surprised to find that it was the dark haired prince. His hands had thoughtlessly found themselves on her waist in his attempts to step back. The two remained that way for a long moment, the warmth of his hands seemed to spread to her face as their eyes locked. He drew back with a nervous cough, issuing his own apologies. They shared an embarrassed chuckle before moving along on their way. They caught eyes again as they looked over their shoulders at the other and Tauriel couldn’t help the smile that came to her lips as she turned to face her destination again.

The return of the Iron Hills clan saw Kíli to helping with the livestock. Apparently he’d had previous experience in shepherding. She realized she didn’t know much of Kíli’s past. He’d spoken briefly during their first conversation of his work as a mercenary. And aside from the couple instances of _remember-when’s_ she heard him and Fíli exchange she hadn’t heard much of anything substantial about the prince’s life before she’d met him.

She entered the room of a dwarf who’d had his shin bone snapped in half. While the bone had been re-set before she’d gotten to him she could tell that it had skewered beyond his skin. She removed the bandages wrapped around the gaping tear in his leg, taking care to not disturb those that held his splint in place and recoiled. Yesterday he had described it as feeling hot and she worried that he had caught infection. 

She cursed in her native language as she examined the infection that was beginning to take root in the wound. She couldn’t see its effects yet but she could definitely smell the sickness starting to bud there. She’d used up the rest of her _sengreen_ in treating Kíli’s chest wound and hadn’t thought it would be appropriate to take more from Mirkwood. She’d definitely need to get more, and soon. She cleaned the wound as best as she could with clean water, hoping it would be enough to stave the festering. She redressed the wound and told the dwarf man of the new development.

“Nah, ya ain’t gotta be worryin’ about me bein’ taken out by somethin’ so teensy, lass,” he said with a good natured grin. He’d warmed quickly to the elf. She had treated his injury much more care then his brethren had, he’d told her.

“Still yet,” she said, “we need to get this properly tended to or it could claim your leg entirely.”

The soldier nodded, a seriousness coming to him. “Oi, then let’s not let the bastard get much worse then. I need both me legs. Ya can’t metalwork from a damn chair, now can ye?”

Thorin had given her permissions when she had first arrived that she might come and go at her own pleasure. She still felt she should consult the King about her plan to journey around the surrounding lands to get what she needed. She found him at his throne, engaged in discussion with the Lady Ironfoot. She stood by, far enough so as not to eavesdrop until Thorin recognized her and called her forward.

She bent her knee before the both of them, taking care to imitate the dwarven style in the Lady’s presence.

“What is it, Tauriel?”

She rose, “one of my wards is beginning to show signs of having an infection and there is nothing in the medicine stores to combat the disease, let alone much else. I came to ask you if I might forage around for a few days in an attempt to find the proper herbs.”

Thorin nodded immediately, “of course you may. You are free to do as you please here,” he reaffirmed.

“Thank you, my lord.”

“I would appreciate knowing your whereabouts in case we have need of your abilities, though. Where do you plan to journey?”

“The Long Lake has a good climate so I will take my search there first.”

“You intend to make the trip alone?”

“Ah, yes. Everyone else is busied with their own tasks and I would not like to reduce any productivity,” she explained. “I know there is a lot of rebuilding to do in preparation for the return of the other clans.”

Thorin thought for a moment. “I’ve no reason to doubt your ability to take care of yourself in the face of danger. Your own health has been less than ideal recently however and I worry you might find your illness again. I would rather you have someone to accompany you.”

She nodded, though she felt fine. She was not at all experienced with sickness and its patterns and trusted Thorin’s judgment in the matter. “Who would you have me take along?”

The black-haired king paused for another moment, before a wry smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Why not Kíli?” 

She gave him a small smile despite the nervousness that began to creep into her. “I think he would enjoy being on the road. I’ll pick him up on my way out.” She gave both of them another bow before leaving the throne room. She could feel her heart beating far too quickly once she found herself alone again. The thought of just the two of them being alone… she was terrified of the thought. Terrified yet excited. During her stay she would catch his stare often and the brushing of their hands was becoming more and more frequent. _And then there was that moment in the hall earlier,_ she thought to herself recalling the things she had wanted to do before he’d pulled away.

She made up the packs, preparing to spend a couple of days around the beaches of the Long Lake. She stepped out onto the balcony attached to her room to get a read on the weather. The air had a cold chill as is to be expected for the end of autumn. The sky, as far as she could see it, was clear. The night would probably see freezing temperatures. When she finished packing she made her way toward the gates. She knew she’d find Kíli outside. She could see a small herd wandering the rocky valley as she stepped out and could hear the sound of grinding as she neared. She had never seen the beasts up close and personal before and as she reached them she found that the sound was attributed to their grazing. They took small stones and pebbles into their mouths and crushed them with ease. She found that she was actually not surprised. A very young dwarf boy approached her on the back of an ibex. After asking about Kíli’s whereabouts he pointed toward Dale. She thanked the lad and made her way to the ancient city. She found the other group easily enough and spotted the tall dwarf almost immediately on an ibex of his own. She had to swallow hard as she approached him, getting more and more nervous for the venture with each step.

“What are you all dressed up for?” he asked jokingly, regarding her travel gear with an arched eyebrow.

“I’m off to gather some herbs from around Laketown and the shores of the lake. Ilúvatar knows that last night’s stew could have used some,” she joked in return and was rewarded with his laughter. The sound itself was short and sweet but the humorous light in his eyes would persist along with his wide, toothy smile long after the sound had faded. “Truly though, someone is coming down with an infection and if there was ever a plant within Erebor it has since turned to dust.”

The dwarf nodded; Tauriel found it strange to have to look up to his face. He wasn’t _much_ taller than her when seated on the horned goat. “I see. When do you plan on returning?” he asked.

“Well, I intend on being back within a couple of days. Thorin requested I bring someone along for the trip,” she said, her voice feeling dry. “We wondered if you might accompany me.”

“Absolutely,” he said without any delay. She breathed deeply, slinging one of the bags from her shoulder and offering it to him. He slid with grace from the ibex’s back. She could practically feel his sudden wanderlust as he checked the bag. “Looks good,” he grinned throwing the pack on.

They returned the ibex to one of the shepherds. “I’d prefer to walk the roads myself when I can,” he explained as they set off, clearing the mountainside city on their way to toward Laketown. They crested a ridge and saw the pale water of the lake close to the horizon. They should arrive in time to set up camp. On the way, Tauriel decided to try and fill in some of the blanks that occupied her knowledge of Kíli’s life.

“Tell me of the west,” she started, “I’ve never been beyond the Misty Mountains.”

“What?” he asked, turning to her with a shocked expression, “You’ve walked this world for 600 years and you’ve never seen the west?”

“I’ve not,” she admitted. “What’s it like?”

The dwarf blew a stream of air into his bangs. “Well, the furthest you can get is the ocean I suppose. I admit I’ve only seen the north coast, the shores just beyond Ered Luin that is. The beaches are made up of fine sand and the water there is cold no matter the time of year. The sunsets there, let me tell you,” a broad smile spread on his face. “They hold a majesty of color and it all reflects there in the water on a calm evening. It can be a very harsh place during the winter and the spring though. Lots of freezing gales and powerful waves.”

He continued on for some time, describing how a lot of the displaced dwarves of Erebor had fled to the old and mostly abandoned city of Belegost in the Blue Mountains. Kíli had been just a child when he’d had to make the trek to the far west of Middle-Earth. “I’ve only ever been to the far south one time,” he said with a shudder. “When I started working as a mercenary I travelled with a human caravan down to… oh what was it called? Pah, it was some small village just passed the border of Gondor. Sketchy place, wouldn’t want to find myself back there ever again.”

“Where did you see the fire moon you told me about, that time in the dungeon?” she asked.

“Dunland,” he recalled quickly. “The first time I’d been was right after Smaug showed up. There was a small dwarf clan already set up there and we found refuge with them before we sought the safety of Belegost. It’s a nice place. Cramped while we were there, I remember. I’ll never forget that night with the moon. I felt like if only I had been at the peak of the mountain nearby I could reach out and put my hand to it that’s how close it looked. Lit up the whole valley with an orange glow.”

He sounded far away, eyes caught on the horizon. Lost in the memory. They walked in silence for a while until a thought came to him. His brows furrowed as he looked up to her, “you’ve never even been to Rivendell?”

She shook her head, “I almost did, once. The orcs of Dol Guldur had finally driven us north to the Mirkwood Mountains and we were hard pressed to keep our ground against their attacks. I had just been knighted as the captain and had to make the decision to stay behind and help protect the perimeters with the rest of the guard while Thranduil, Legolas and a small company of guards rode west to Rivendell to call for assistance. When they returned, my… the king decided to close our borders.”

“We should go,” Kíli suggested lightly. “When we get some downtime, that is.”

She smiled down at him, “I’d like that. What is it like there?”

“Definitely one of the most beautiful places in Middle-Earth, that’s for sure. How to describe it… it’s a place very inspired by its location that’s for sure. Actually, no. You’ll just have to see it for yourself,” he grinned at her. His first and only visit to the other elleth city was fresh in his memory, he simply could not explain the elven sanctuary for fear of dishonoring its majesty.

She frowned at him, displeased. He wasn't swayed. “Nice try,” he laughed. “I spent years perfecting my own pouts. I am immune to all others.”

She laughed as well, imagining the young dwarf sat before a mirror making a variety of pitiful faces. She had no doubt he would use it on the victims of his mischievous pranks when he’d be caught in the middle of his hijinks to get out of any potential trouble.  
They made the lake shore before she had expected them to and they took a quick break to drink and nibble at some bread. They had about an hour of full light left and then they’d need to set up camp.

They set out in separate directions to hunt for the plants she’d need. She began to pick around the brush by the small beach when she heard him return to her side. She raised an eyebrow to him as she bent down to retrieve some vines of wild strawberry.  
“I, uh, I have no idea what I’m looking for,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

She shook her head despite the smile that crept onto face. “Well, then you’ve got a lot to learn. This is wild strawberry. It’s got a couple of uses, depending on what part of it you use. The fruit can be eaten of course, but the juice of the leaves help to soothe sore throats when boiled.”

“I’m surprised your elven training taught you about the healing effects of mortal afflictions,” he noted, taking one of the plants from her hand. His fingers passed across hers, sending electricity up her arm. He examined the leaves, sniffing at them as she pushed some of her hair behind her ear.

“Sore throats are unlikely for my people but not impossible. I wouldn’t know the first thing about curing an upset stomach or a runny nose.” She had definitely found a hatred for the prevalence of mucus in her system. She could bear the low energy, the headaches and the coughing. She picked a berry from the plant and popped it in her mouth. It was a little sour—not quite ripe yet. She offered one to Kíli. Rather than take it from her he opened his mouth. When she only blinked at him in response, unsure of what he was doing, he pointed to his tongue as though it would answer her unspoken question.

She hesitantly placed the berry on his tongue, retracting her fingers quickly. “I was expecting you to toss it but that works too,” he said around the berry.

She considered him affectionately as his face reflected the sour taste of the strawberry. “Good to know for next time,” she said with a smile turning back to her hunt.

As they picked their way around the lake she would tell him about the different plants that had caught her attention. By the time dusk began to color the sky in the west they had a good collection started. They’d gotten enough marrowmend to last them beyond what she would need for those still healing. They had also managed to find a bounty of various berries. She intended to plant a couple of them closer to the mountain when the returned—the blueberries and strawberries were resilient and adaptive. They only needed to find a nice amount of _athelas_ and the _sengreen_ that would be essential in fighting off the infection.

They’d have to continue looking in the morning, however. They decided to set up camp beside two large rocks that were positioned well enough to prevent the cold winds that had picked up from biting into the travelers and their fire. They sat close together beside the warm light as the sky began to fade. The cloudlessness was making for a cold night, as she’d expected it to. She roasted a couple of the blueberries they’d collected, glad to taste the sweetness of fruit again.

“We should probably take shifts,” she said, interrupting the comfortable silence they’d been sharing. The moon had begun to creep into the starry sky above them.

“Aye,” he murmured, eyes captivated by the fire.

“I’ll take the first watch,” she offered.

“You sure?”

“Mm,” she hummed. He seemed distant, troubled almost; it began to bother her. They were almost the same size when they sat, she had only a slight advantage on him. She nudged his shoulder with her own, successfully rousing him from his thoughts. “What’s on your mind?” she inquired softly.

He was unmoving for a long moment. “Us,” he said so quietly she might have missed it had her hearing been any less keen.

She found herself nervous again. It was the strange combination of feelings she’d been struck with early. Unease and joy settled in her gut as she met his gaze.

“I’m not sure if it’s right or wrong…or even possible to be together. Mahal knows I want to be with you Tauriel,” he said, unable to tear his brown eyes from her golden-green ones as if searching for his answers there. 

She leaned against him as she drew her knees to her chest. “I was scared of getting it wrong,” she admitted, “before the battle.”

“Yeah?”

“We—elves— only have one partner in our lifetime,” she explained. “You can go decades knowing a person and then one day you’ll wake up and just _know_. You both know, so they say. I was certainly drawn to you in Mirkwood. When I found that you’d been poisoned by that arrow I _knew_ I needed to help you. When Thranduil told me there was an option to bring you back… I _knew _I had to do it. I didn’t have a whole lot of time to think about any of it while it was all happening...”__

__“Do you know now?” he asked after she’d trailed off. “If I’m the one?”_ _

__“I wish I did,” she sighed. “But I don’t have an eternity left to figure it out and you never did… so I’d like to try.”_ _

__“I’d like that.” They shared a smile, looking at one another for a moment longer before turning back to the fire. “I know Thorin and the others have no qualms toward you. It’s the others I’m worried about. Well,” he corrected, “it’s you I’m worried about. I know no one would commit any violence upon you but it’s important to me that they accept you and I dread that they won’t.”_ _

__“Let’s take things slowly then, test the waters when we can?” she suggested. “We can address the rest as it comes.”_ _

__“I can work with that,” he said and she could hear the smile in his voice. His fingers brushed against hers with purpose; a question. She overturned her palm and he laced his fingers in between hers. They watched the fire for a time and she’d smile every time his thumb would absently trail against hers. She felt at peace now, hopeful even. They’d have to conceal their partnership when they got back to Erebor, but she pushed the thought from her mind—enjoying the present as she was learning to do. Her days meant infinitely more now and she was beginning to understand the haunting concept of regret. She knew she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself if she allowed the opinions of others dictate the rest of her life. She had spent 600 years avoiding risk._ _

__“Tauriel?”_ _

__“Hmm?” she turned to find him looking at her, an intensity in his eyes she’d seen earlier that morning when they’d collided in the hall. His attention shifted fractionally toward her mouth and she couldn’t help doing the same._ _

__He swallowed hard. “Can I kiss you?” it came out as a rough whisper, clouding in the air between them._ _

__“Yes,” she answered suddenly breathless._ _

__He leaned in slowly, allowing her ample time to change her mind if she’d wanted to. She helped to close the distance instead and felt the warmth that poured from his skin just before their lips met. They hardly seemed to touch, the exchange was so gentle. His stubble was not as scratchy as she had expected it would be and she could feel his long lashes move against her cheeks as he pressed himself further into kiss. His free hand found its way to her cheek, his fingers dipping into her hair and brushing against her ear. The feeling caused her to shiver just enough to barely break their kiss. They stared at one another, confused for only a quick moment before laughing lightly._ _

__They were still smiling when they kissed again, this time with more confidence. It was a deeper kiss than the one they’d just shared but it was still entirely innocent. He brushed her cheek lightly with the calloused pad of his thumb. When they parted again, they sat with their foreheads pressed together admiring the other as they attempted to catch their breath._ _

__He had to stifle a yawn with the back of his hand and she looked to the moon; the night was well underway. She offered him another smile, “you should rest Kíli.”_ _

__He pouted then and she realized that he had _not_ been joking when he’d mentioned his perfection of the skill earlier. She only managed to resist by pressing a small kiss to his forehead—thankfully it seemed to quell him._ _

__He wrapped his cloak around him and rested his head upon her thigh, determined to use it as his pillow. As he fell asleep to her running her long fingers through his hair, she breathed in deeply. She felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest and she smiled to the stars above her. It had been a good day, indeed._ _

__“Goodnight _amrálimé_ ,” he murmured sleepily._ _

__“Goodnight _melamin_.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm grinning like an idiot over this and I hope you are too! Thanks for reading my lovelies. I still don't have any super big plotsy stuff in store but it sounds like you are all enjoying the way its progressing. I've definitely got a lot of chapter-by-chapter stuff in the works. Please tell me if it's too slow! I'm thinking about throwing in some razzle dazzley action soon to shake things up a bit. As always, feel free to throw me some suggestions :) I'm not sure when I'll update again, but it shouldn't be too long.
> 
> And just to cover any language confusion: athelas is a healing herb native to Tolkien lore, marrowmend is something I came up with (I just really love making up plants...), sengreen is also known as houseleek and is actually used to treat infection (chose to call it sengreen because it sounds more middle-earthy, I think). I think you know what amrâlimê and melamin mean ;)


	5. The Meeting at the Edge of the Wood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are being made.

The sun rose, barely cutting through the fog that had settled around the lake during the night. The air around him was damp and chilled but he didn’t feel the cold. Along with his natural resistance to the temperature he had a fire at his feet, a cloak around his front and an elven beauty on his side. When they traded shifts she had rested her head against his and they spoke quietly for a while until she dozed off. Neither of them had moved since. 

The cawing of crows started once the darkness had begun to lift from the sky and one particularly loud croak stirred the sleeper. One of the crows landed nearby and Kíli threw a stone at it, expecting to spook the bird away. Rather, the rock struck it in the head and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Looks like I’ve just got us some breakfast,” he smiled as Tauriel rubbed sleep from her eyes. 

He cooked the bird after stirring the fire back to life. She did not seem impressed with the taste, making a face as she bit into the meat. He wasn’t much a fan of the pallid flesh either but they had a long day ahead of them and would need the energy.

They returned to their search making their way south along the lakeside. Some of the fog burned off as the day progressed and they found themselves at the southernmost bend of the lake. Occasionally the shadow of the Lonely Mountain could be seen across the grey water, looming on their limited horizon. The trees of Mirkwood were only a couple hundred feet from the shore.

Tauriel sighed—yesterday’s fortune must have set with the sun. They had found only a couple strands of fragrant grasses to add to the bounty of berries and the herbs they’d collected previously. The sun was a subtle halo of light in the monochrome sky, already directly overhead. _Now that winter is rolling in we’ve only got a couple of hours of light left_ , Kíli thought as he scavenged. He was looking for plants they already had, looking to be of some use.

“Praise Ilúvatar,” he turned to see her facing the woods and gave her a confused glance. She pointed at a tall bush growing at the base of a twisted tree. He could see the small, light petals even from their distance. “It is _athelas_ ,” she explained walking toward it. 

She picked a couple sprigs of the flower, handing him one to observe.

“This is the stuff that took away my poison, yeah?” he asked.

She nodded, “it has a myriad of healing uses in the hands of elves. It’s something of a cure-all.”

A flock of birds stormed over the trees above them, fleeing the forest in a wave of sound. Instantly on guard, the two drew their bows. They could hear rustling and crashing in the forest to their left; knocking and training their arrows along the estimated path. 

A couple of giant spiders burst through the brush and into the open, their legs carrying them quickly. The arachnids stopped briefly, shrinking from the light of day. Their hesitation was punished as the couple released their arrows, piercing the spiders in their exoskeletal heads. Tauriel’s arrow had caught itself straight in the creature’s eye. They crumpled to the ground slowly, curling up on themselves as they died. 

After sharing another glance, they picked their way cautiously toward the spiders. “It’s strange...” Tauriel said quietly, eyes trained on the dark forest. “Usually the spiders prefer the depths. It’s as if they were being chase—,” before she finished two elves flew from the canopy of the trees easily landing beside the spider carcasses.

“They’re dead,” one announced. She was a female guard of Mirkwood, her long blonde hair tied only once it reached her waist. She hadn’t noticed them yet, examining the spiders with confusion. Her partner had though, silently gaping as he removed his helm. 

Half of his head looked to be burned, scarred and raw. The other half of his face was framed by long wavy strands of tawny hair.

“Captain,” he greeted gruffly, his free hand coming to his shoulder and giving her a small bow. The other quickly followed the motion.

Tauriel blinked at him, and looked over her shoulder to see if he had been addressing someone else. “Míthon,” she replied when she confirmed that he had addressed her. “Tauriel will suffice now.”

His eyes found the ground, “Aye, then the rumors were true. You’ve been banished then?”

She nodded, “Did Thranduil not say?”

“He promoted Phaendar as a stand in but said nothing of your status. None of us knew whether or not the promotion was temporary.”

She looked to the forest forlornly for a moment before issuing the elves a smile, “Phaendar is a fabulous choice. I hope he’s been good to you.”

The two nodded, “Yes, very much so. He’s very taken with your projects as well. We’ve been tracking the spiders to their nests beyond the borders and we’ve taken some of our territory back from them.”

“Well that explains this then,” Kíli cut in, nudging one of the spider legs before him.

“Thranduil’s finally approved the push then?” Tauriel said, surprised but happy all the same. She had borderline harassed the elf king about such a tactic when she had been captain and was glad it was being seen through.

The two guards shared a dark glance. “Not exactly. Phaendar called a meeting soon after he’d been appointed. We’re still only patrolling our borders. However, if the spiders should flee from our land to their nests beyond… he gave the order to seek and destroy. We all pledged our silence. Thranduil does not know.”

“Getting the spiders to retreat is a good start,” she said softly. “But Dol Guldur needs to be taken out if you’re to find any peace. We wouldn’t have been able to take the stronghold before the battle at Erebor, but now… they suffered the most casualties.”

“Phaendar has considered the same things,” the girl spoke. “We don’t have the numbers for our own campaign. Even if there are no orc parties camped in the Misty Mountain passes, winter is descending. We’ll not be able to get reinforcements from Rivendell until spring returns.”

“There is also no guarantee Elrond would ride. He’d want to help, I’m sure,” Míthon speculated. “But he sent all that he could when Thranduil called upon him centuries ago.”

Kíli could see the gears turning as Tauriel paced. He despised the orcs as much as anyone—perhaps more. It was Bolg who had killed him and in turn had taken her endless life from her, as indirectly as it might have been. “I can talk to Thorin,” he said and the three elves turned to him. He nodded at Tauriel’s confused frown. “Together, our people and the humans were able to cut through a good amount of the legion. For creatures of war, they seemed highly unskilled. They must have intended to overcome us with quantity over quality. Perhaps unifying once more would be enough to take Dol Guldur out for good. We’d need to strike before they have time to recover and train.”

Míthon considered him curiously, “Do you actually think your king would ride to help us?”

“It’s hard to say,” he admitted. Thorin hated the evil creatures, of that he was sure. “He definitely won’t march until the rest of my people return to the mountain. He would need to have the support of the other dwarrow leaders but it _would_ be a good diplomatic move on his part. Seeing as how he and Thranduil despise each other and what not.”

“Your King and Bard are on good terms,” Kíli continued. “The humans barely managed to defend themselves so if Bard was to agree to a campaign, he’d need time to train his men and the assurance of both of our leaders support. If this is something you’re serious about pursuing then we can take it up with Thorin when we return to Erebor.”

“Ah, yes. Absolutely. Well, we need to speak with the new captain of course, and he in turn with Thranduil. We’ll need the King’s approval for this mission, we won’t be able to dodge it. But having the known support of the dwarves and men might be enough to convince him though.”

“Send word of your captain’s decision and we’ll respond when we know Thorin’s.”

The elf man bowed to him, issuing his thanks before turning to Tauriel once again. “So, you’re staying with them? The dwarves I mean.” Kíli noted the curiosity that took him rather than the disgust he would have expected.

“Aye. They’re a fun lot,” she smirked at her companion. “Raucous and stubborn, yes, but good all the same. I’m acting as their healer while the others work to rebuild. We’re scouting for healing herbs right now.”

“It seems you’ve found a good bundle of _athelas_ ,” the woman noted. The flowers they’d picked before had been hurriedly pushed into her satchel before she’d drawn her bow. “What else do you have need of?”

“ _Sengreen_ is the last on our list,” Tauriel sighed. “Finding it outside of the forest has proven difficult so far.”

“Ah, there’s a couple of blooms a little ways back. I’d be happy to fetch some for you. Consider it a trade,” Míthon nodded toward the dead spiders. He and the girl left, leaving Kíli and Tauriel waiting. She took to butchering one of the shriveled arachnids.

“What are you doing?” Kíli asked, curiously kneeling beside her. She shoved her arm into the incision she’d cut her shoulder flush against the creature, practiced at whatever it was she was doing but wincing all the same.

“First, checking for eggs. They can hatch just as well in the rotting corpse of their mothers as anywhere else. This one is clean. Second,” she said with a smirk. Suddenly the spider began to ooze web from the spinneret on its rear. The sound that left the dwarf’s lips rivaled the disgust in his grimace. The elf laughed as he stood and backed away. “Silk has been a big resource for Mirkwood since the invasion. It would be good to bring some back with us.”

“Hm. We dwarves don’t use the stuff all that much. Cotton and leather are much more practical,” he trailed as she freed her arm, shaking off some goopy residue.

As she gathered and wound the sticky webs deftly she looked to him, “Aside from linens this silk has been useful in healing, trapping and general adventuring.” She picked a long fern stem from the edge of the forest and wrapped the ball of web in it, tossing it at Kíli. He caught it and deposited it into his bag as she took to checking the other spider.

She was just wrapping up when the two elves returned, both holding two flowering heads of _sengreen_. “This should last you quite a while.”

“Thank you for your help and generosity,” Tauriel bowed. One of the blooms would have done just fine, but now they had four. He imagined they’d need to dry the majority of the petals. _Perhaps she’ll be able to cultivate some once Bilbo returns_ , he thought cheerily. 

“Of course. I’m afraid we need to keep on with our patrol. Thank you for gutting the beasts. It was good to see you Tauriel, and you as well…”

“Kíli, prince under the mountain,” he introduced himself.

“Well met then, Prince Kíli. We’ll send word to you soon. Take care of yourselves,” the man donned his helm once more and they both gave a saluted bow before disappearing into the trees once more.

When they were alone again Kíli couldn’t help the beaming grin on his face. “What’s that for?” Tauriel asked as they turned north. They’d gotten what they had come for and began making their way back toward the mountain.

“Thranduil might have his grief with my people but those two didn’t seem very prejudiced,” he explained, bouncing along.

Tauriel looked to him and then over her shoulder to the woods behind them. A smile pulled at her lips. “No, they didn’t.”

He slipped his hand into hers then, their fingers locking slowly. “That aside...wow. Taking out Dol Guldur. I wonder if Thorin will agree to it. I feel like he would _want_ to but the other leaders have been cowards in the past.”

He’d been there when Thorin had called on his people to reclaim Erebor. Most had refused, hiding under excuses. The way some of them had shouted about the absence of the Arkenstone, or the heat of the dragon’s fire had enraged the prince. Kíli understood cowardice; he’d overcome the feeling many times throughout his life. It was an excuse he could forgive. Those who had dropped their loyalty for such a material matter though, they’d be hard pressed to fit in his good graces once again. He couldn’t begin to imagine the grudge Thorin would hold for them. Kíli’s attempts at predicting the jurisdiction of the meeting were fruitless.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see then,” Tauriel commented, echoing his thoughts. She gave his hand a squeeze as they made their way through the fog, back towards their home on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year my lovelies. Wowee sorry for the little break between this chapter and the last one, got caught up in the celebrations. Anyway! We have a plot, everyone! Things are about to get serious. Not quite yet, but soon. I'm returning to classes this next week and I'm not sure how frequently I'll be able to update but I promise I'll stick to it and get you guys chapters when I can.
> 
> As always, feel free to leave suggestions :) I'll do my best to fit them in as I can. I love hearing your feedback too :)


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